


Miraal

by bigfatsalad



Series: Your Name is My Name [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Gen, Golden Child Syndrome, Jealousy, Names, Open to Interpretation, Parent-Child Relationship, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Self-Doubt, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Self-Worth Issues, Short One Shot, Sibling Rivalry, Tags Contain Spoilers, so I'm leaving one out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:28:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25233904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigfatsalad/pseuds/bigfatsalad
Summary: A short story highlighting the feelings and life of a young girl named Miraal.
Series: Your Name is My Name [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037325
Kudos: 2





	Miraal

**Author's Note:**

> Take a deep breath, and enjoy. Warning: some content may be sensitive to some readers. Read at your own risk.

The hospital. Bleak, dreary, filled with the sick and wounded, and even the _dead_. Eyes seemed to peek out from the walls, as people came in and out of this hall and that. Scurrying footsteps. Distant hacking. And the smells. Cold, dry air which would carry the faintest scent of urine to even the most obtuse of noses. People sob and cry outside the door, learning of a recent passing, struggling to cope with the loss. Others lean against the wall, keeping their grief to themselves. It was truly a nightmare.

And yet somehow, it is also a miracle. A gift, as if sent from God Himself. Ugly crying, and the loudest of shouts. The tickling sensation inside the heart of a family member realizing that their brother is finally cured and freed from the chains tying him to his bed. The labored breathing of a woman just recently given birth beginning to balance out as she begins to realize the beautiful bundle she brought into the world is alive and breathing too; her smile spreading large across her face as she holds the crying babe to her chest. The hospital, too, is a place filled with warmth, joy, excitement, and _life_. 

*

“Oh, Lev, would you just take a look at her? She has your cute little nose.”

“ _My_ nose? Ha, funny joke. I’d like to think she has yours instead. All… pointy and soft, or whatever.”

“You still aren’t that great with your words, huh?”

“You know me, Roshni. I’ve never been great with that type of stuff.” The man smiled sheepishly. “Good thing you chose the name; I’d probably name her Barbara or something like that.”

“Thank the good lord I didn’t let you go through with that,” she sighed. Roshni smiled down at the bundle in her arms, sound asleep. “How could you look at this cute thing and think, ‘I wanna call her Barbara’?”

He leaned in closer to the baby’s face, almost to the point where he was breathing on her. Lev shrugged. “Beats me.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Yeah. But that’s why you love me, right?”

“Right.” She moved her hand to hold Lev’s. He glanced at her, to their hands, and then back to her again. Whispering, she laughed tiredly, “I’m sure Miraal will too.”

*

On the streets, people always told the couple what a sweet baby they had. They smiled and nodded and moved on; they didn’t need to hear what they already knew to be true. 

‘What’s this cutie’s name?’ _Miraal_. 

‘What’s that mean?’ _She’s an angel of heaven._

She never speaks out of turn, is always the top of her class, and respects her _parents_ to boot. She does all the chores, is part of every club, and has great integrity. Is there anything Miraal can’t do? She really, truly seems like an angel of heaven.

That’s what they always said. 

It’s what her father, Lev, and her mother, Roshni, thought too. They told her they loved her. They told her she was the light of their life, the biggest blessing they could ever have. They told her they expected her to be the best and out-do everyone in the world. They told her she was the only one. Because she was an Angel of Heaven.

_‘That’s just my name though.’ ‘It’s only my name.’ ‘I’m not_ really _an angel of heaven.’_

They shook their heads, and told her she was. Their daughter was an angel of heaven, how could she not be? She was perfect in every way, shape, and form.

Every party they went to were all talking about their daughter. 

‘Did you hear…?’ 

‘Guess what _she_ did now…’

‘How blessed to have a girl like her as a daughter!’ 

The couple took pride in their daughter. Pushing her and urging her to do great things with her life. That she had potential to be the best in the world, that she could become the president someday, that she could be the greatest gift to humanity.

_‘That’s just my name though.’ ‘It’s only my name.’ ‘I’m not_ really _an angel of heaven.’_

It’s not like they were listening anyways.

Miraal. She hated the name. She hated the expectations that came with it. All of it left her feeling empty, empty, _empty_ . She _hated_ it. Miraal. Why couldn’t she just be Barbara? Would people leave her alone, then? Or would she still be stuck, drowning in empty feelings and stumbling through the fog of her heart? She hated how she’d become a simple doll, placed on a shelf to be shown off, smiling forever at all the passerby as they pointed and laughed.

*

For the first time, she had failed. Done something terribly _wrong_. Cheated. She cheated on a test, had stolen the answers from the teacher’s desk during lunch. She’d been sent to the principal’s office, of course. Her parents were called in, as she sat there, unmoving, silent. They stood in front of her, shielding her from the principal’s cold glare. 

She heard her dad yell. “That can’t be _our_ Miraal! She would never do something like that!”

She heard her mother plead. “Please, I’m sure she didn’t mean to! You can’t put this on her permanent record!”

Miraal. Who the hell is that? 

The room went silent, as her laughter, small snickering at first, grew into bellowing frustration. She couldn’t help if the situation struck her funny.

“M-Miraal?” her mother whispered, taking a step back from her daughter. She looked terrified, frozen. 

“What are you doing?” her father growled, spinning around with his fists clenched to face her. His brow was furrowed, as he shook out of rage. “Don’t you feel sorry?”

“No, I don’t.”

*

At home, she locked herself away in her room. Her parents didn’t even bother to check up on her. Miraal suspected that they were too busy crying their eyes out at the kitchen table to even look at her. 

“They’re disappointed for sure,” she whispered to herself, as she held her legs closer to her body as she sat on her carpet, leaned up against her bed. “They probably hate me, right? I’m not their ‘angel’ anymore.” She jabbed her nails into her legs. Skin was wedged under her nails when she ripped them away; blood started to trickle down to her ankles. 

“They’ll probably find another daughter, right? One who’s _actually_ perfect.”

*

Miraal had a baby brother now, Farhaj. He was the light of their life now. They gave him everything, even a nickname. “Raaj,” the king. She’d known it. One step wrong, and she’d be replaced. Roshni and Lev had gotten something new to brag about.

*

‘What’s his name?’ _Farhaj._

‘What a good boy! He’ll be a lady-killer some day!’

They smiled and nodded, as they patted their son’s back after every game he won, every award he received, and every girl’s heart he stole. They loved him, even bragged about him more than what they did with their daughter. It was as if everything she’d ever done, diminished into obscurity in the shadow of her younger brother. 

‘Your son knows how to do everything! He knows how to cook, draw, play the tuba, and can play sports on top of that. What a good boy.’ 

Miraal had never gotten praises like that. Nor did her brother get the expectations she got.

It was then, when she realized, she didn’t have skills like her brother. Obedience? Integrity? Top of her class? All of it, useless. Her brother had all that, and _more_ . Her parents finally had a _perfect_ child. Maybe that’s why… what she did didn’t matter anymore. 

Empty. Empty, empty, 

“ _Empty_!” she screamed, as she punched the shower wall. The water continued to stream down her body, as she sobbed quietly to herself. Her hand slowly slid off of the wall, to loosely hang at her side instead. “Why do I feel so empty, dammit?

“Why do I feel so useless?”

*

The beeping of a monitor. Each pulse said she was alive. She had a heart, after all, even if she didn’t feel it. Numb. She was numb. Her fingers wouldn’t move no matter how hard she tried. The lights beaming down on her were blindingly bright. But it was cold. Everything felt cold. Aren’t lights supposed to be… warm? There was a muffled sound, almost like booing, but she couldn’t discern anything from them. It’s too loud. Where…? She sighed, deciding to close her eyes. Breathing in a shaky breath, she felt she was about to choke on the air itself. It smelled like iron metal had mixed together with hand sanitizer, made her want to gag, even though she couldn’t feel her mouth or the tongue inside of it either. 

They told her they loved her. Was it… actually true? They told her she mattered. They told her… they said that… she was… the one. They told her, with tears in their eyes. It’s too cold. Even though her eyes were closed, it was getting brighter and brighter and brighter. 

Miraal. Maybe she did love the name, after all. Miraal. She smiled softly at it. Miraal, Miraal, Miraal. _I love it. It’s perfect._ Angel of Heaven. Perfect. It’s perfect.

Miraal. Who the hell is she? _It’s me. I’m Miraal._

Why did she do it again? Empty, but alive. Is that any way to live? They told her she was worth everything. They told her that she deserved to live, even if she felt empty. They held her and cried, but it wasn’t enough. They… apologized. Why did she do it? She couldn’t live as a shell anymore, she decided. A useless disappointment again, right? But they told her, she wasn’t. They told her they loved her. 

Panic hit her body like a truck. Why did she…? She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t feel a thing. Bleak, and dark, and truly, truly awful. Where was she…? 

“Mom, Dad… Raaj…!” she croaked. “I don’t want to… any… more…” 

A long sound, deep and rich, and loud. _Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep._ A last parting breath. She was finally perfect, an Angel of Heaven in name and body.

**Author's Note:**

> Any feedback is heavily appreciated! I hope that my story imparted some sort of feeling onto you, whether sad, or angry, or whatever. Please tell me what you think in the comments, kudos also appreciated. :) Thank you for reading, "Miraal"


End file.
